


Tequila Sunrise

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: cross-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-05
Updated: 2010-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Red or gold?" With Spike you were never sure if it was blood or beer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Set: Early sn 5 &amp; 2 respectively  
> TamingtheMuse Prompt: Sunrise  
> A/N: Cordelia, Spike, and Lorne oh my!  
> a/N2: Thanks to Spiralleds for a fly by beta. All characters owned by Mutant Enemy etc except for McBroodyPants. That fellow's all mine.

The guy at the bar slammed down his glass. "Another tequila sunrise!" he barked at the bartender, then dropped his head to stare at the wood grain of the bar.

Lorne took in the pale complexion, the scattered (and smashed) glasses and a glanced at the time. Just what this evening needed, another new vamp-- probably a yearling. But he was called The Host and he took that role seriously. "Sure that's what you want? I've gotten rave reviews on my Bloody Mary with O-neg.." Even the grumpiest vamps mellowed after a feeding. Not Angel, but he never followed the rules.

The vamp looked up, one hand still curled around his glass. "No I don't want a fucking Bloody Mary! No substitution needed thank you kindly." Lorne watched as his knuckles grew even whiter around the glass, ignoring the flash of fang. "This was going to be so perfect. What I wanted, I can't have. So give me a fucking Tequila Sunrise!"

"The customer is always right," Lorne nodded at his assistant. Maybe he'd better let this guy stew a bit.

"He giving you any trouble?" a voice from the side of the bar asked.

Lorne suppressed a grin at the eagerness in that question. "Spike, now what have I told you about violence and alcohol?"

"Better when mixed?" came the cheeky reply.

Hard to believe he was the same line as Angel, two more different vamps Lorne couldn't imagine. "That one's hardly the master of brooding. He's just feeling a bit nostalgic."

"Well you do know the Poof. Got brooding down to a fine art, he does. Not that I'd tell him, nor you." The last words were growled out, as if to rectify an over-share.

"Don't you worry, cupcake. There might not be an official seal between bartender and patron, but the unofficial one works well enough. When the patron buys something." Lorne raised his eyebrow meaningfully. He enjoyed the banter with Spike, but he had to limit his complimentary beverages, at least that's what his accountant kept telling him.

"Fine fine. Give me a pint -- good stuff imported, ya?"

"Red or gold?" With Spike you were never sure if it was blood or beer.

"Alcohol, you git. Do you think I'd pay your outrageous prices for blood? Not bloody likely!" He sat on one of the bar stools and twisted it to face the rest of the room. "So, besides McBroodypants, quiet night?"

Pulling the beer tab, Lorne slowly filled the pint glass. "My karaoke machine is in the shop. I hadn't realized what a draw the destiny thing was." He paused to let the liquid settle before topping it up. "Or the singing. Not that we draw a lot of talent, but you can't control everything."

"Hmph," was Spike's contribution.

"So what's brought you here from the Hellmouth?" Normally Spike spilled more information in the first few minutes than he could pry out of Angel in an evening. Another difference. Lorne wondered about the rest of the Fanged Four, how would Darla and Drusilla's personalities blend with the boys?

The question earned him a glare and the beer snatched from his hands.

"That good, croissant? So in L.A. for anything in particular?"

"What are you doing here?"

The high pitched voice had both of them turning towards the entrance. "Trouble at two o'clock," Lorne barely had time to whisper. "Cordelia, this is a pleasant surprise! Cosmo?"

But she ignored his overture and focused on the blond at the bar. "You left Angel with holes in his stomach and you think you can just waltz into HIS city?" Lorne had to admire the hair toss. Maybe she'd been practicing for a shampoo commercial? "I knew you were crazy but that's just stupid."

"Hello, Cordy, Did you change your hair? Looks good."

"You think? I wasn't sure about the new salon and wait a minute, mister, you still haven't said why you're here!"

Her interrogation technique was not Lorne's own, but he stayed back at let another expert work the field. Spike was in town more often than Angel's crew knew, but curiosity didn't only kill cats. If a more direct approach was needed, or rather a firmer one, he was all ears for the results.

"Oh I'd know if Angel went old school and claimed 'Master of the City' status," Spike sprawled back against the bar, as much as the chair would allow. "He hasn't, and even if he had, my whereabouts are no business of yours."

"That much denial means something." Cordy crossed her arms and began tapping her right shoe, Lorne looked down, last year's Choos...they must have finally had a paid job. Maybe he could get Angel to settle up the tab? Lorne bit back a chuckle. Like that would happen.

"That's your plan?" Lorne could hear the mirth undercut Spike's question. "I've faced down the Slayer, and my Dru, and you think some toe tapping will break me? How soft HAS Angel gotten?"

"Still waiting for answers, bud. Or do I need to get the holy water out?" She let her backpack purse slid off one shoulder and that could lead to no good.

"I think you need something stronger than the Cosmo, sugerplum. I'd recommend a Seabreeze?"

Cordelia spared him a smile before turning back to Spike. "Spike, spill."

"Hey, still waiting for my Tequila Sunrise!" McBroodypant – why ignore a good nickname—slammed his hand against the bar, sending vibrations up and down its length. Lorne frowned; maybe it was time to renew the reinforcement spell. The interruption did have one positive effect. Both Spike and Cordelia refocused on the complaining vamp.

"Piss off, I'm having an argument here." Spike pushed himself off the bar stool and took a step towards the malcontent. "And Tequila Sunrise? While wearing all black? How cliché can you get?"

Cordelia was right beside him. "And faded black at that. Did no one teach you proper care of darks?"

"Want us to remove this waste of space?" Spike rolled his shoulders and stretched out his neck left and right like fighters before a round. "He's de-classing the joint."

Joint? Lorne had referred to Caritas as many things but never a joint.

"I know you've got this live and let live policy going here," Cordy said. "But really I think you can make an exception for Mr. Cheap Knock Off."

"I'm here to drink, nothing else. But," the vamp pushed off his stool and straightened up to at least six two and looked like he out-weighted the other two combined, "I'm not letting two fleas like you stop me."

"Did he just call us fleas?" Cordelia addressed the question to Spike.

"Think he did. That's no way to talk about a lady."

"Lady? Thank you!" Cordelia's smile brightened the whole room. "Wait a second, I hate you."

"And I hate you, but," Spike turned to face the looming vampire, "we both hate you more, wanker."

"Can't we come to some accommodation?" Lorne didn't want to plead, but violence had to take place outside the club. And the losers rarely paid their tab. The brooding fellow had been here for hours. "Or at least settle up before heading upstairs?"

"Not going to let this twit short-change ya. You're a decent sort." Spike was staring the vamp down, while looking up at him. Quite the trick.

Cordelia just rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I was staking things bigger than you in high school. Host, you need a better class of customers. I mean even that K'wartha demon there is less annoying and he has four tentacles."

"Just want to drink in peace. If you want me to tear you to pieces, be happy to oblige." He pulled a few bills from his coat pocket and tossed them on the bar. "Let's go!"

As they headed to the street, Lorne counted up the discarded bills and mourned the loss of another paying customer. Three minutes later Cordy and Spike were chatting like old friends and reclaimed Spike's spot at the bar. "Barely worth the walk. Wanker couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag."

"Yup, didn't even break a nail. Sometimes a simple staking can be so satisfying." Cordelia settled in the neighboring stool. "You said something about a Cosmo?"

"Sure, mille faille. Whatever the lady wants." As Lorne mixed the drink, he asked, "What brings you to my humble establishment this evening?"

"Ug. I'd rather enjoy my drink, but it's bossman. He's being extra broody." She placed her elbows on the bar and rested her chin on her hands.

"Extra-broody? How can you tell?" Spike finished off his pint and pushed it away. "If he's in a snit, I'd best be off."

"So you are afraid of Angel! I knew it." Cordy smirked. "And here I was thinking how nice it was to see a familiar face."

"Nice?" Lorne admired how arched Spike's eyebrow could get. "Fine I'm out of here. Tell Gramps. Oh never mind. Gotta stop spending time with humans. Need to get out of California. There's gotta be a place where no self-respecting vamp would order a sunrise!" With a huff, and no payment, he stormed out of the place.

"What's his damage? I mean our last meaningful interaction he threatened us and had Angel chained and tortured. If a flame thrower didn't put him off, why would the word nice?"

"This isn't a kiss'n'tell kind of place, but Sweetcheeks there is at a cross roads. Never a comfortable place to be." Lorne used a small towel to wipe the bar. It really was a slow night. "So, you were saying about Angel?"

This could be a long talk.


End file.
